


Brokeback Mountie

by Eilera



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Matt Hates The Outdoors, Matt is a Novelist of Dubious Material, Mother Nature - Freeform, Mountie Uniforms Are Sexy, Shatt, Shiro Has A Horse, Shiro is a Canadian Mountie, There is A Raccoon, fight me, it's dangerous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilera/pseuds/Eilera
Summary: The man rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Ah, I promise you I’m not a demon. I’m just a Mountie.”A Mountie?“Damn, I want you to mountme.”(In which Matt is a novelist struggling with writer's block and Shiro is a Japanese-Canadian Mountie that takes pity on him.)





	Brokeback Mountie

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Canadian and the Mountie uniforms are hot. I have no excuse. This is pure self-indulgence. The idea was given to me by the amazingly talented [Giraffvinu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffvinu/pseuds/Giraffvinu)! Please check out their great fics as well!
> 
> For anyone that doesn't know what a Mountie uniform looks like, please see [here](http://www.rcmpolice.ca/dressregs.html). The website is awful, but it shows decent pics.
> 
> The Royal Canadian Mounted Police are Canada's police force. They can be found throughout the majority of Canada with the exception of a few provinces. This uniform is not really meant to be worn every day. It's mostly just for show during events, etc. 
> 
> Special thanks to [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/works) for beta'ing as usual.

Matt was going to die here.

He scanned the stupid trees as if they might be hiding a blinding neon sign pointing him in the right direction. No such luck.

After weeks of having the horrible blank page of doom staring back at him from his computer, the little text cursor blinking at him with Catholic-nun level accusation, Matt had sought out help from friends and family and people that were supposed to care about his well-being.

Clearly, he needed to get a new family and better friends because this? This was bullshit.

‘Get outside’, they said. ‘The fresh air will do you good’, they said.

Liars, the whole lot of them. The fresh air smelled like bear shit and he was pretty sure he’d stumbled through poison ivy at some point if the searing itch on his leg was anything to go by.

No, Matt didn’t much care for the ‘outside’. The outside didn’t have warm showers or a microwave. It didn’t have warm blankets and a cozy fireplace to curl up in front of. It didn’t have internet and it certainly didn’t have his video game collection.

So, what _did_ the outside have, you ask? Thank you so much for your inquiry, Matt would be happy to elaborate.

The outside had bugs. Matt was pretty sure he’d swallowed at least three while he hiked through this godforsaken forest, panting for breath. The outside was cold and wet and probably full of enough wild animals to feast on his corpse ten times over.

Mother Nature could go fuck herself.

Matt slumped against a random, moss-covered rock. He stared at the shitty map his Airbnb host had cheerily handed him at the dinky little airport. You know, one of those ones out in the boonies. Where the planes were only big enough to carry a handful of people and shook enough to give him at least fifty heart attacks. It was _supposed_ to lead him to a quaint little cabin in the woods. It was _supposed_ to be a relaxing place where he could take ten naps a day and maybe finally write something halfway decent again.

Except Matt had gotten lost and now he was going to slowly starve until he was forced to eat his own arm to survive.

Matt stilled as something shuffled through the forest nearby, causing the bushes to rustle. Dear God, please let that just be the wind.

Didn’t they have bears here? All the fucking tourist trap stores were full of bears, moose and maple syrup. These Canadians were weirdly obsessed with maple syrup. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was just...syrup. Could a country really build a national identity around one admittedly delicious condiment? Apparently, Canada could.

Matt pulled out his phone, staring morosely at the reception bar.

He couldn’t call anyone for help. He had no idea where the fuck he was. And to make matters worse, it was starting to get dark. All he knew was he was in the middle of some fucking forest in Bumfuck, Nowhere Canada and his feet hurt. These were supposed to be hiking boots. When he got back home he was going to set fire to that Wal-Mart and piss on its ashes.

Matt sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“C’mon Matt, remember what the great Bear Grylls taught you.”

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

Fuck, Matt wasted too much time on memes and not enough on basic survival techniques.

The bushes rustled again, closer this time. Matt froze, eyes scanning the forest. Nope, the trees still looked like every other tree he’d seen in this hellhole.

Matt scanned the forest floor, snatching up a sturdy-looking stick. If he was going to die he’d go down fighting. He’d watched enough anime to know how to use this thing.

As the rustling drew closer Matt gripped his stick, holding it awkwardly like a javelin. As something dark and furry poked its head from the foliage, Matt let out a truly terrifying war cry that absolutely in no way sounded like a horny turtle.

“It’s just a raccoon.”

“Jesus fucking douchecanoe!” Matt gasped, dropping his ‘weapon’ to clutch at his chest as said raccoon skittered away in fear. He turned towards the heart attack-inducing voice.

Matt stopped, gaping.

Now, Matt liked to think he was a _good person_. He didn’t do drugs and he sometimes donated money to the particularly aggressive charities. It was just to make them go away, but it still counted, right? He’d never been arrested, and he even stopped himself from punching people in the face daily, even when they deserved it. He was an okay citizen just minding his own business.

But he must have done something very, very wrong. Because before him was a man so insanely hot, he had to be a demon. There was no other explanation. Matt had died and gone to hell because of all the gay erotica with criminally awful titles like ‘Batdude and Throbbin’’ and ‘Ejacula’ he wrote for a living. He should have known that would give him a first-class ticket to fiery damnation.

Then again, maybe that time he put gum in Pidge’s hair when he was in sixth grade and then didn’t tell her so she was forced to cut it short in order to get rid of it was finally coming back to haunt him.

To make matters even more insane, the man was riding a horse. A stunning, majestic _white_ horse. Like some knight in shining red armour.

He needed to say something. Show this man he was a normal human being.

Wait, that wasn’t true. He was Matt ‘I-Like-Ketchup-On-My-Macaroni’ Holt.

He was doomed.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, say something, dammit!_

“Stay back, foul demon!”

The man stared at him. He was wearing a bright red uniform jacket that accented his broad chest and bulging muscles and oh dear God those _arms_. Matt wanted to wrap himself in them and never let go. His black pants made his legs look like they went on forever and those knee-high boots made Matt want to swoon.

_Step on me, you sultry succubus._

The man rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Ah, I promise you I’m not a demon. I’m just a Mountie.”

A Mountie?

“Damn, I want you to mount _me_.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Matt slapped his hand to his forehead. “I just said that out loud didn’t I?”

The man was blushing bright enough to match his jacket.

“You know what? I stand by what I said, beefcake,” Matt gave the man what he hoped was a confident grin. “Can you help out a poor, lost tourist? I can't find my cabin and I was afraid I was going to die out here.”

Somewhere out there was a crappy porno with the same premise. How did his life come to this?

The man frowned, looking around. “You’re lost,” he said slowly.

“Yup.”

“Even though you're on the path?”

“Yeah, geography isn't my strong suit. I'm a writer not an explorer.”

“Oh, that’s really neat!” Neat? How old was this guy? “What kind of books do you write?”

Snippets of Matt's work tore through his brain like a Vietnam flashback, all with increasingly creative substitutes for the word ‘dick’.

Sweat dripped down his back.

“Sex,” his mouth unhelpfully vomited out.

The Mountie blinked. “Like...sex education?”

Ha! Matt was the last person that should teach about safe sex. He’d lost that privilege when he used the word “schlong” instead of “cock” in his first book. He was a failure.

“I write about sex. Gay sex. Gay erotica, if you will.” And just because things couldn’t get any more awkward, he finished with, “I’m gay.”

_Hello world, I’m an embarrassment to society._

The sexy man-god gave Matt an amused smile, even as his eyes darted away shyly. Matt’s heart was going to burst out of his chest at this rate.

“I-I’d love to read it someday. I can take you to your cabin. Which one are you staying at?”

Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for this gorgeous miracle. He would never question Bear Grylls ever again. Improvise with a stick. Adapt to a heart attack. Now it was time to overcome his crippling gay panic and ask out the man of his (wet) dreams.

He could do this.

There was no way he could sink any lower than he already had.  

He could do anything.

“I’m staying at, uh,” Matt squinted at his shitty map. “Maple Cottage.”

Again with the maple.

The Mountie burst out into laughter. Oh boy, did it look great on him. Matt sent him a half-hearted glare, trying not to swoon as the man leaned forward to brace himself on his horse’s neck, body shaking with mirth.

“I’m so sorry,” he finally choked out, wiping away tears.

Matt shrugged. “By all means, continue to laugh at my misfortune.”

“It’s just, you’re in the wrong forest.”

Matt blinked.

“Well, fuck me.”

“This isn’t the best place for that. Maybe later.”

Matt looked up into dark eyes sparkling with mischief. So this was what love felt like.  

“Marry me.”

The Mountie laughed again. “Take me out to dinner first.”

“If you take me to my cabin, I’ll _make_ you dinner first.”

The guy blushed an adorable pink. “R-right. Hop on, I’ll get you there a lot faster than walking.”

Get on...his horse? But that would mean-

That would mean Matt would have to hold on to _something_ and that something was most definitely a desire demon dressed up in layers of muscle and sexy Canadian uniforms.

He was a weak, weak man.

“O-okay,” Matt muttered, nervously moving closer to the enormous animal.

“Don’t worry, Atlas doesn’t bite. She’s a good horse.” The Mountie patted her neck fondly before reaching towards Matt. “My name is Shiro, by the way.”

Matt grasped his hand, revelling in the firm grip like an anime school girl swooning over the lead idol of some shitty boy band. God, this was so pathetic and he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

“Matt, well, Matthew but if you call me that I’ll never talk to you again.”

“That would be a shame,” Shiro said softly. “Hold on tight, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

Well, Matt wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that.

\-------------------------------------------------

“Thank you for leading my dumb ass to the correct forest. Even though it looks just like the other forest. Your country has too many forests.”

_Say ‘forest’ one more time, Matt. You’re an author for god sake._

As soon as he got back home he was going to open a thesaurus and read the entire damn thing.

Shiro smiled, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “I don’t know about forests, but we have more lakes than any other country.”

An awkward silence permeated the area. For once in his life, Matt didn’t know what to say. He’d stupidly made his initial offer to make dinner sound too much like a joke so he wasn’t sure if Shiro’s apparent interest was just going with the atmosphere or if he actually meant it. Plus, he’d learned on their journey here that Shiro was not only extremely hot, but he was a nice guy on top of it all. He enjoyed Shiro’s company. Was it okay to tell him that after they’d just met?

“Well, uh, thank you for saving me from the Canadian wilderness. There are bears and shit out there so, like, you saved my life.”

“It was just a raccoon.”

“Well it probably had rabies or something.”

They stared at each other some more and Matt was about ready to smack himself in the face. He wasn’t the kind of guy that did a one-night stand and Shiro didn’t seem like it either but what the hell was he doing!? There was no way he was letting this man walk out of sight until he at least got his number!

“Do you want to come in?” Matt asked, just as Shiro said “Can I get your number?”

They both smiled at each other.

“Of course.”

\-------------------------------------------------

A year later Matt was filling out paperwork for Canadian citizenship and packing his belongings for shipment. Becoming Canadian sounded pretty damn sweet. He'd already ingested enough maple syrup to drown a mountain of pancakes and he'd had his own showdown with a Canadian goose (and lost). He was practically an honorary Canadian already.

And yes, after meeting Shiro he did manage to write again. His best-selling novel was about a Canadian Mountie and the geographically-challenged author who fell in love with him.

God, he loved a man in uniform.  

Beautiful fanart by [skydarko](https://skydarko.tumblr.com/)!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'd kill my non-existent firstborn for a picture of Shiro in a Mountie uniform, just sayin'.
> 
> EDIT: Welp, guess I'm offering my firstborn child to you, skydarko. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Please feel free to talk to me about Voltron on [Tumblr](http://eilera-chan.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
